Liberty Tree: The Truth Is What You Make Of It
by Nosferatu5
Summary: Set in GTA III Canon and 2008. Includes elements from mods. Will not stop. 3rd chapter will follow after some reviews.
1. Nova Bossa?

**Yup, will be just as promised.**

_This fanfiction is about people. It's also about about GTA. It's also about death. And most importantly, it's about a large number of people dying in extremely unpleasant ways; ones that could hardly by called natural (Well, except for Carcer City, where that sort of thing happens all the time, but you know what they say about _them).

1930, January 14 2008, Liberty City, Hepburn Heights  
The Diablo territory was silent. Every building, every automobile was covered with a slight coating of snow, as polluted as every ounce of water around the city of Liberty. Few animals could be heard, coinciding with the ever-growing number of gun enthusiasts in all three boroughs.  
A white Remington with tanned windshields, a flaming, eye-watering paintjob, and an illegal level of body suspension drove out of the soon-to-be-destroyed Porter Tunnel and headed down the road, seemingly oblivious of the dozens of gang members cruising the streets.  
Reaching a decision, two men in blue bandanas carrying alloy baseball bats and revolvers carefully approached the vehicle from the front. It stopped instantly. They turned their attention to the side windows, also built to be impossible to penetrate with naked eye.  
One of them yelled:  
"Oi! M'te! You're on Diablo turf! Ya one, mon?"  
A windscreen slowly rolled down. The gangsters heard soft classical music rising. A male voice from the dark depths of the vehicle said:  
"No, punk. Don't you see the car? Does it look like we are Diablos? Ah, also, why are you trying to do a Jamaican accent?"  
"Um, we'll give you to our boss, ok, mate?"  
"Wrong phrase. The right one would be... Running away. Um. I am very sorry to do this, gentlemen." The man made a theatrically long pause, letting the gangsters become even more uncomfortable. "Mortimer, please, kill them."  
An M60's barrel appeared out of the back window of the car, which has opened to the command.  
"Dude, what are you doing, mon? It's not like we did anything to ya! Seriously!"  
"Sorry, gentlemen. And you're doing it again, 'mate.'"  
The weapon fired a short burst of bullets aimed at the gangsters' chests, releasing something simultaneously with trigger-happy Mortimer's happy sigh - a vast and damp cloud of blood.  
The gunfire alerted Diablos to the car, which was already speeding away, turning left as it reached the nearest intersection. In just a mere fraction of a minute a Stallion was already chasing after them, reaching the corner their target disappeared behind in a surprisingly swift manner, as opposed to the usual bulkiness of the brand's models. To the Stallion's occupants' disbelief, the vehicle was there, parked on a sidewalk, the street devoid of pedestrians, and small puddles of blood already drying up.  
One of the Diablos opened the glove compartment, reached inside, and took out an old Tec 9.  
"Hm? Should I?"  
"Yeah, holmes. Fire it up."  
The Remington accelerated and turned left again, past a construction site that has been unactive for seven years, since that day that the mayor of Liberty City has suggested that, because of his giant debts to every government and every mafia in the world, they can ignore that site as he has no money to do anything about it, past a laundromat, all the while tailed by the Diablos, trying to shoot its tires out, in the range of merely a few metres.  
The white car quickened its speed of passage... And everything stood still as it continued to go off the road, through the railings, and into the water. The Stallion braked a few seconds before meeting the same demise. Two gang members stepped out.  
"Huh, they really takes losing hard?"  
"They didn't actually lose. Not as such, you know, ese. You know. We didn't even really fight."  
"Ah, well. But you do know that they probably opened the door at the last moment and jumped out and survived?"  
"Yeah. Probably. But who cares? They usually do, but I bet fifty bucks that they didn't now. Let's go get a Well Stacked."  
"OK, mate. I mean, you are right; this is none of our concern. This position has a pension. What's the sense in running around like we're invincible is this position has a pension?"

Silence.

"Uh, it does, right? Burro did say that we get some monetary support after we get too old?"  
The other participant of the conversation stirred, startled, as if awaking from a daze.

"Yes, it's true. Although, 's not like being a gangbanger is a job that you can grow old during at all. There are old gangsters and bold gangsters, and I really can't remember the rest of the saying, although it probably meant somethin' really smart."

They drove in silence. The person who just spoke tried to continue the conversation.

"Anyway, it's not like anybody ever complained."

"That supposed to make me feel better? Just drive to the fucking pizzeria. I already feel awful that I've missed New Year's Eve on patrol. Now we didn't have any pie for Old New Year. I'll have pepperoni, thanks."

* * *

1940, 14 2008, Liberty City, rocks off the coast north to Hepburn Heights  
As the gangsters got into the car and sped out of sight, two figures climbed up on the rocks a few dozen meters into the open sea. One of them shuddered and said:  
"You see, Mortimer? This is how it's done."  
"Yeah, whatever. That paintjob was made for my money, you remember that? And we salvaged only one M60."  
"The others were fakes."  
"So... I get it, but I have just one point to understand. What was the point of all of this again? If this was just practice, then why did there have to be the destruction of the car? I mean, we could have died there if the doors... Wouldn't have been... Blown off by the water pressure..."  
The sentence came to a halt, Mortimer's eyes questioning the other figure.  
He replied:  
"Yes, the doors were rigged. Think of it like – like being a stuntman, except that the other times you will not have a chance to escape nearly that good." He continued. "Anyway... As I was saying... This is how you do it. One at a time. Two at a time. Then, you take a cement truck, block off the sewers under the district with the material, so that the gas can build up... Then, you send a man to drop a match into a manhole. The thing is..." the man hesitated, searching for a word, and settled lamely, "Style. If you will come in and slaughter everyone, they will remember you as a sadistic bastard. If you will plant bombs from an RC helicopter, they will remember you as a genius."  
Mortimer turned. 

"Er. Boss. You are aware that I have been in the business for years? Right? Yes?"

"Yes, but I think that a person should be open to new ideas."

He sauntered vaguely into the water. Behind his back, Mortimer muttered in_ sotto voce_:

"Fucking new guy. Hah. And I have to play along to _this_? What is he, some kind of a torturer?"

**Update:**

_Liberty Tree: The Truth Is What You Make Of It_

_Love Media_

_As recently became known to Liberty Tree, the Trenton PD arrested the murderers who have triggered the recent gang feud that resulted in two deaths. The men are as of this minute in the detainment cells of the Police Department. As the Police spokesperson David Geller remarked, "With us it's safe to walk the streets." For a reason unknown to the reporters, the officers were unable to reveal the killers' identities or show any images of them. No information about them is known at this point. The only reference to the prisoners outside of the spokesman's company was by a police officer who was questioned by reporters:_

_"(Deputy George Jordan Parts, first year): Uh, yeah, we got 'em down in the cells. Of course we got 'em. Er. Yeah, they're there. If they weren't, why would I be talking to you? They're there sure enough. How did they get there? How come we got 'em there? Because we captured them, that's why."  
The deputy was unexplainably eager to leave right after conversing. _

_Also found out by Liberty Tree is the fact that a vehicle belonging to the murderers was found by the Liberty City Police Force. The type of the car is known to most as "Lowrider". It was white-colored and had a paintjob depicting flames.  
It was spotted just off the north coast of Portland, retrieved from the sea, and surprisingly quickly repaired from all the water damage. At this point it is in the impounded car lot under the Trenton Police Department.  
The pictures of the vehicle are below. _

_http://img152.imageshack.us/img152/4929/gallery416nz5.jpg  
http://img293.imageshack.us/img293/7485/gallery427yw1.jpg  
http://img229.imageshack.us/img229/8296/gallery429qs8.jpg _


	2. Donkey's Mansion

1250, January 14 2008, Liberty City, a Hepburn Heights building

It was probably one of the most important events ever in the history of Liberty City. Nevertheless, it wasn't happening in any of the police departments. Or the capitol of LC. Or a busy street, amidst the crowds' ranks a pyromaniac let loose with a flamethrower.

No, that last note the opera of Liberty City was so short of was sung in a rather inferior structure near the Hepburn Heights neighborhood. It was framed by shonky shops that seemed to have always been there. On the construction's right was a shoe store, which was established in 1993 when the Zaibatsu Pharmaceuticals Company was restricted of selling any of their products in Liberty City and forced to put up for sale all of their trading spots, including this one. On its left, nonetheless, was a brown-colored bulky building that once, before all of Liberty's economy went to hell, housed a branch of the Bank of Liberty; now, however, it was a site for (Ah, sweet irony!) Zaibatsu Pharmaceuticals selling its merchandise illegally to anyone requiring it. An agreement existed between the Diablos and Zaibatsu to simultaneously attack if the neighborhood was assaulted. Both factions knew that it would be, soon...

Although all of Portland had horrible living conditions, none of it happened on purpose. Even considering that there was a song about Portland that specifically pointed out what a horrible place it was to live in and the arrogance, idiocy, and madness of its citizens, nobody ever did anything. For some reason, nobody actually moved out. People loathed the place... But the same ones also loved it.

Most of those who said that had mansions in Wichita Gardens and read poetry the whole day.

In general, Portland was not at all horrible on its worst days, but only in general. Nobody ever came near Hepburn Heights. Everyone hated it, but _this_ building especially was a no-go zone.

Its construction was bland with the designers secure in knowledge that the existence of its inhabitants would be underprivileged, unlustrous, and wretched, as only those types of people would live there, and developed it for their personalities - to make the poor souls even more miserable.

--------------

Inside... Someone yelled.

"I don't give a _fuck_! I told you, all of you, th'is is th'e best idea since slicing bread!" a tall, obese male covered in tattoos bellowed harshly, as if hiccupping every time he said a simple combination of letters, _th_.

"Uh... You're a Puerto Rican gang leader. When did you last eat any sliced bread?" another man answered calmly, not breaking eye contact with him.

"I don't _care_! Th'e th'ing I _do_ care about is, it's a great idea! Th'ey will all be _cut off_!"

"But mon, isn't it a lot of resources to ask for something that might not even work?"

"Whyever would it not work, people? It's _easy_. It's _bound_ to do _someth'ing_. Anyth'ing. I guarantee it will 'ave some effect on them," he slurred, swallowing sounds.

"And I think it won't work. They have boats, for God's sake. They don't care. Any brainless_ puta_ can do this," he said. "No offence, of course – I have no doubts about your tactical thinking," he added hurriedly, "But I think it will be too hard to keep them all in different boroughs."

"I have a plan about _th'at_ already... You see... Do you know how they come to each oth'er's aid to help against any attacks by some local th'ugs?"

Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, but did not stop staring at him.

"So, if we _destroy all of the bridges_, th'ey won't be able to. It's easy. Why can't you all understand the first time I say it?"

Unexpectedly for everybody, someone else joined the talking part of the conversation.  
"Um... Sir... What about the Porter Tunnel?" a young voice asked.

"Ah. Th'at is a great question." Everyone nodded. It was a great question, albeit one the Don of Diablos would most certainly have an answer to... "It really is a great question. Here's the answer: Do you know its layout?"

"That's not an answer, but, well, no... But I expect it would be hard to post guards all along the length of a giant tunnel..."

"No. It wouldn't. And you know why? Because th'ere are only - what, th'ree? Four? exits out. And two of th'ose branches end on Shoreside. And th'ere is only _one_ place where you could go two ways from. So, we post maybe a do's'en Diablos, SouthSide Jacks, whatever hoods we have on our side. Th'ree Securicars. Or Barracks. Or Enforcers. Just enough to block th'e branches going off from th'ere." He paused, thoughtfully. "A'right, th'e most awful subject. Weapons."

Everyone in the room thought about it. It was true. Not a single of the gangs present ever used any arms better than sub-machine guns. Nobody even dreamed of rifles, let alone rocket launchers or M16s. They were so low in the crime chain, they didn't even see the difference between a minigun and a shotgun as none ever got to have one.

The young man who spoke up before decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

"It is true, sir, but what do you suggest?"

"What I suggest is... Do you remember Colombian Cartel?"  
Everybody nodded. _Nobody_ forgot the Cartel.

"Th'ey used Kalashnikovs. And M4s. And everyth'ing in between those and Colts. Well... Any of you ever wondered where th'ey got the weapons?"

"Er... Well, sir, they _did_ do drug trafficking, so probably they smuggled some crates in... Why?"

"And did any of you wonder where th'ey stashed th'ose crates?"

"Yeah... But they probably used them..."  
"All? Not bloody likely. In short – I have found th'eir reserve of weapons."

That got a few short laughs from the others. Everyone knew how to react in those circumstances. Act like you don't believe anything. And ask the man meaningless questions.

Someone did so.

"Maybe you even found the Yakuza crates?"  
"Yes. Not like anybody uses th'em now anyways. So I th'ought – I'll nip down to Staunton, shoot a load of lead into th'ose _putas_, th'en – while th'ey're distracted - pack some of the boxes into th'at Cargobob Cheng Hai Guo gave me – by the way, th'anks, Cheng."

An oriental-looking man waved his hand from the "audience".

"Anyway, wasn't much th'ere. Many Colts and Uzis, all rusted. Nobody so much as even opened th'ose crates for the last – what? – six years."

Everybody stopped talking. This was serious.

The younger man spoke.

"Um... What about the Leones?"  
"Wait... I th'ought _everybody_knew about th'ose... I mean, nobody knows where th'ey are – weren't th'ey transported around all the time? On boats?"

"Okay. Okay. But to the subject again. Won't they be able to use the subway to move around the islands?"

"A do's'en gang members on every stop, coming th'ere right before the explosion in plaincloth'es? Will work."

"You have a point... But what about boats? Helicopters? Anything else? They must have them! This is insane! There are too many things that could go wrong!"

"_Idiota,_ just listen for a second. Just _listen_. I have my ideas. Like, we can put a few squads of men in every city. When th'e bridges blow, th'ey would sweep th'e places. And helicopters – well, we could use a few. A couple of th'ose gangsters can hijack some from the Leones." He took a deep breath.

"Boats, well, 're different. Cheng, could you give us a couple?" he continued.

The asian-looking male pondered the question, but answered eventually.

"Three to five. Maybe six if we get a shipment right."

"All right! Any oth'er suggestions? Questions?"

The younger gang leader raised his quivering voice.

"I have an idea... Maybe bomb the dam to make all of the lights go out? And stop the Leones from using the subway or the tunnels? And, I mean, it will cause extra confusion for them?"

Silence ensued. Then the noise of deafening laugh started growing. The tall Puerto Rican slammed his palm into the younger man's back, causing him to bend over.

"Good th'inking! _Great_ th'inking, boy! Which gang did you say you were from?"  
"Liberty Piranhas. We operate in Trenton. Not much of one yet, but we just started."  
"Great. So, who's up for the bombing?"

The earlier calm, cool man raised his hand, still not breaking his eye contact.

"Redfern Cascade Posse. Easiest for us. Sink a rigged Yankee, blow it up before it gets too wet, the dam is drained, no power, mon. Or maybe ninja style; get through the interior of the dam, and blow up the generators."  
"Th'e details are up to you. However, everyone understands th'eir role in this? Yes? Good. Meeting is over."

Everyone except the Don of the Diablos left the room. He stood up, lighted a cigar, and wiped the accumulated sweat off his cylinder-shaped head.  
He heard a braying sound.

Without turning his head, El Burro said:  
"_Get th'is fucking donkey out of here_! I_told _you, I don't want to start up with th'at again! It's protection racket for me! You're a decade late!"

He sighed, took out a .45, and, also without turning his head, randomly fired a shot into the space behind him.

_Liberty Tree: The Truth Is What You Make Of It_

_Love Media_

_By the request of a reader__ we post the lyrics to a forgotten song about Portland. Unfortunately, those were all we could find as the rest of the manuscript was destroyed when it was unintentionally exposed to the water around Liberty City. The remaining parts follow below._

_There's a __hole in the world like a great black pit  
and the vermin of the world inhabit it  
and its morals aren't worth what a pig can spit  
and it goes by the name of Portland.  
At the top of the hole sit the privileged few  
making mock of the vermin in the lonely zoo  
turning beauty to filth and greed...  
[too damaged to read  
for the cruelty of men is [too damaged to read  
but there's no place like Portland_

_We are sorry for the incompleteness._

* * *

**A/N: As English is not my native language, do not hesitate to point out any of my errors in reviews, and, preferrably, PMs.  
Redfern is described in GTA literature as a "Small clump of blocks just north of Shoreside Vale".  
The credit for its creation goes to OnePiece of GTAForums entirely.  
The current map of Liberty City could be found here:  
http://i68(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/i14/matttheplayer/Twenty(Percent sign)20Ten/TT300.jpg  
What should I write about next - other gangs or the main character?**


End file.
